Chapter 3: The Red Notebook
I didn't sleep that night.
Nia fell asleep in the guest room with the bedroom light on.
Malik insisted on sleeping in the chair outside her door.
I let him.
I understood that he needed to know he could protect his sister without having to do it alone anymore.
At 6:30 the next morning, I called Michael again.
He arrived twenty minutes later carrying a leather briefcase and two cups of coffee.
He found me standing in the kitchen, staring at the untouched seafood from the previous evening.
"Daniel," he said quietly.
I turned.
"Thanks for coming.""
He placed the coffee on the counter.
"Tell me everything.""
I explained the dinner, the food restrictions, the school call, the missing money, and the recordings.
Michael listened without interrupting.
When I finished, he opened his briefcase.
"First, we're going to separate the issues. The children's immediate safety comes first. Then we'll deal with the financial records.""
"What about the recordings?""
"We need to know what they contain and how they were made. Don't delete anything. Don't encourage Malik to make additional recordings. We'll preserve whatever already exists and let the appropriate professionals assess it.""
I nodded.
"Vanessa has an authorization form with my signature.""
Michael examined the photograph I'd taken.
His eyebrows rose.
"This is interesting.""
"What?""
"The notary stamp.""
He zoomed in on the image.
"Do you recognize this notary?""
I shook my head.
"No.""
"Do you remember signing anything at this bank?""
"No.""
Michael studied the document for another moment.
"This may be a forgery. We need the original and the bank's records before drawing conclusions.""
I rubbed my forehead.
"Can we get the money back?""
"Possibly. But first we need to establish where it went.""
He looked toward the staircase.
"Have you spoken to the children individually?""
"Not yet.""
"Let them speak without pressure. Don't suggest answers. We need their own words.""
I nodded.
At that moment, Malik appeared in the doorway.
He was still wearing yesterday's T-shirt.
"Mr. Grant?""
Michael turned.
"Morning, Malik.""
"Can I tell you something?""
"Of course.""
Malik glanced at me.
I nodded.
He walked over and placed a small black device on the kitchen counter.
It was an old voice recorder.
Michael looked at it.
"Where did you get this?""
"From my bedroom.""
"Is it yours?""
Malik nodded.
"I used it because Mom always said I was lying.""
I sat down.
"How long have you had it?""
"About two months.""
Michael didn't touch it.
"Did you record conversations in private areas?""
"No. Mostly when Mom was talking in the kitchen or the hallway.""
"Did anyone tell you to record her?""
Malik shook his head.
"No. I just wanted Dad to know.""
Michael looked at me.
"We'll handle this carefully.""
He asked Malik to explain where the device had been kept and whether any recordings had been deleted or edited.
Then he made a secure copy for preservation.
"Malik," he said, "you did the right thing by telling your father you were worried. But you shouldn't have to investigate an adult in your own home.""
Malik stared at the counter.
"I know.""
Michael softened his voice.
"Your job is to be fourteen. Not to protect everyone from your mother.""
My son blinked rapidly.
Then he started crying.
I walked around the counter and hugged him.
For the first time in months, he allowed himself to cry without looking over his shoulder.
After breakfast, I took Nia to her pediatrician.
The doctor examined her and asked questions about her eating habits, sleep, and general well-being.
Nia answered softly.
When the doctor asked whether she had ever gone to bed hungry, she looked at me.
I nodded.
"You can tell her the truth, sweetheart.""
Nia took a breath.
"Sometimes.""
The doctor looked at me.
"We need to evaluate her nutritional status and make sure she receives consistent meals. I also recommend a child therapist experienced in family trauma.""
I agreed immediately.
On our way home, Nia held my hand.
"Daddy?""
"Yes, baby?""
"Are you angry with me?""
I stopped walking.
"Why would I be angry with you?""
"Because I told people about Mom.""
I knelt in front of her.
"Listen to me. You are never responsible for protecting an adult from the consequences of their choices.""
She stared at me.
"Even if she's mad?""
"Even then.""
Nia nodded slowly.
Then she asked the question that nearly broke me.
"Can I have breakfast tomorrow too?""
I pulled her into my arms.
"Every morning. Lunch and dinner too. And snacks whenever you're hungry.""
She held on to me for a long time.
When we returned home, Michael was waiting in the living room.
He had spoken with the bank.
The news wasn't good.
Vanessa had made multiple transfers from the children's trust over fourteen months.
Some payments had gone to ordinary household expenses.
Others had gone to a private credit card.
And several had been transferred to an account under her maiden name.
"How much?"" I asked.
"Approximately sixty-eight thousand dollars.""
I stared at him.
"Sixty-eight thousand?""
"That's what the preliminary records show.""
I sat down.
Michael handed me a list.
There were payments for jewelry, luxury clothing, restaurant bills, and travel expenses.
One transaction caught my eye.
A payment of $12,500 to a company called Hartwell Family Services.
"What is this?""
Michael checked his notes.
"That's a private financial consultancy.""
"Why would Vanessa pay them?""
"I don't know yet.""
I scanned the remaining transactions.
Then I noticed the dates.
Several withdrawals had occurred within days of payments from my business account.
I looked at Michael.
"She was transferring money while I was sending money into the household.""
"That's possible.""
"She had access to both accounts?""
"Apparently.""
I stood and walked toward the stairs.
"I want that red notebook.""
Michael followed me.
"Daniel, don't confront her alone.""
"I just want to see it.""
"Then let me accompany you.""
We entered Vanessa's office.
She wasn't home.
Her desk was immaculate.
A silver laptop sat beside a crystal pen holder.
The drawers were locked.
I looked around.
Then I noticed a red leather notebook partially hidden beneath a stack of magazines on the bottom shelf.
I reached for it.
Michael stopped me.
"Photograph its position first.""
I did.
Then I opened it.
The first pages contained ordinary household expenses.
But halfway through, the handwriting changed.
There were dates, amounts, and brief notes.
Some entries referred to the trust.
Others referred to something called the Nia Plan.
My fingers went cold.
I turned another page.
There were columns labeled:
*School.*
*Food.*
*Medical.*
*Trust.*
Beside several dates were handwritten amounts.
Next to some entries were the words:
Denied.
Delayed.
Redirected.
I looked at Michael.
"What does this mean?""
He examined the page.
"I can't tell you yet.""
I turned another page.
Then another.
Near the back, I found a list of phone numbers.
One was labeled Hartwell.
Another was labeled Collins.
I frowned.
"Collins?""
Michael looked up.
"Mrs. Collins?""
"That's my daughter's teacher.""
He took a photograph of the page.
Then I found a folded sheet tucked inside the back cover.
It was a printed email.
The subject line read:
*Regarding the guardianship review.*
I read the first sentence.
Then I read it again.
Vanessa had written:
If Daniel continues to interfere, we will need to demonstrate that Nia's father is emotionally unstable and unable to provide a consistent home environment.
My hands tightened around the paper.
Michael took it gently.
"Don't touch anything else.""
I stared at the email.
"She was planning to take my daughter?""
"We need the full correspondence.""
I looked at the notebook again.
There were more pages.
At the very end, in Vanessa's handwriting, was a sentence that made my blood run cold.
Once Nia is placed with the appropriate guardian, the remaining funds can be released.
I swallowed.
"Appropriate guardian?""
Michael photographed the page.
"We'll find out who she meant.""
Just then, a car pulled into the driveway.
Vanessa was home.
We heard the front door open.
Her heels clicked across the hallway.
"Daniel?""
Michael closed the notebook.
Vanessa appeared in the doorway.
She looked at the notebook.
Then at the photographs on Michael's phone.
Her expression changed.
"What are you doing in my office?""
I stood.
"Looking for answers.""
She stepped inside.
"Put that down.""
Michael remained calm.
"Mrs. Carter, we're preserving documents that may be relevant to a financial investigation.""
Vanessa's face flushed.
"You have no right!""
I held up the email.
"Who is the appropriate guardian?""
For a moment, she didn't speak.
Then she smiled.
It wasn't her usual smile.
It was colder.
"Someone who understands what your daughter really is.""
I took a step toward her.
"Be very careful.""
Vanessa looked directly at me.
Then she delivered the words I would remember for the rest of my life.
"Rachel knew Nia was going to be a problem. That's why she made arrangements before she died.""
I felt the floor shift beneath me.
"What arrangements?""
Vanessa picked up her handbag.
"Ask Rachel's sister.""
Then she walked out of the office.
And I realized there was another person who might know exactly what Vanessa had been planning.
May you like
My late wife's sister.
A woman who hadn't visited our home in almost two years.
